


Touch Trust With Doubt

by Nakimochiku



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:59:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakimochiku/pseuds/Nakimochiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sousuke is promoted to the position of Vice Captain. Shinji, however, doesn't trust him at all. There are ways around this though, Sousuke knows, just as there are ways around everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch Trust With Doubt

“You don’t trust me.”

Shinji glances over his shoulder at his young new vice captain and sneers. Sousuke smiles winningly back at him, box of personal items tucked under his arm, looking sweet and innocuous, brown eyes glimmering and inviting. But Shinji sees a glass sharp hint of _something_. His lip curls. “What gave ya that idea?”

Sousuke ducks his head to chortle softly, and when he looks up, his eyes are sharper still. “If I slept with you, would you trust me?”

He drops his box, scattering papers and inkwells, black pools bleeding out onto the wood, to grab Shinji closer. Their breath mingles, suddenly too hot, too little oxygen between them. “No,” Shinji replies against Sousuke’s mouth, and presses in for only a quick kiss. The new vice captain smiles at him, but in the moonlight, it’s lethal.

“That’s okay too, I suppose.”

They don’t make it fully into Sousuke’s new quarters. They don’t make it to the futon. They don’t light a candle. They fumble at each other in the dark, hot mouths on salty, tangy skin. Prying fingers at rough silk. Tongues, swiping wetly around dusky nipples. Teeth, scraping against collar bones. Nails, digging into shoulder blades. Lips, pressing to moist patches of reddened skin.

“You’re pretty good at this.” Shinji grunts, hips pushing up to find friction, shivering when Sousuke bites just a little too roughly. “Had lotsa practice?”

Sousuke laughs, and spreads Shinji’s legs, watches him through narrowed eyes and takes in every flushed, panting, eager inch, every hair in golden disarray, every new kiss mark. “You’d be surprised.”

Shinji snorts. “No, I wouldn’t.”

There’s a story there, for another time. But Shinji rocks his hips into him again, hard and aching, and it’s forgotten in favour of slick tongues tangling, fingers pressing into convulsing heat, a low embarrassed keen dragged from between clenched teeth. It’s forgotten in favour of heat pooling in tight stomachs, the obscene sound of flesh meeting flesh, a strangled cry in the dark.

“Fuck.” Shinji gasps out, dimly aware he’s scratched at Sousuke’s pale back enough to draw blood. The thought is lost in a flurry of sensations, deep inward thrusts, methodical and measured, in and out at just a pace to make him want to cry in desperation, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Captain Hirako.” Sousuke whispers against his throat, and kisses the moist skin at the delicate hollow of his neck, the skin just above his pounding pulse. He smoothes open mouthed kisses there, taking Shinji apart one languid inch at a time, smirking against his skin and listening to his rapsing breaths as his captain nears breaking points and snaps.

The sound of his name smothered against the back of that pale hand is the sweetest yet.

Shinji dresses in silence, face stone hard, every movement dispassionate. The seriousness of his expression is lost slightly somewhere between the blood underneath his nails, the hickies on his collar and the mussed locks of his hair. Sousuke smiles at the ceiling when Shinji is gone.

“Don’t worry, Captain Hirako. I will always give you reason to trust me when the doubt becomes too much.”


End file.
